Mt Katahdin - Winter 2016

Katahdin.... Winter... sitting here now, those two words alone are enough to make me shiver.  It was June 2015 when this trip was first mentioned, though, and with 7 months and an entire summer between me and the mountain - all I had was a feeling of excitement about a new adventure.  Ted "Gunny" Coffin and Ranger Mike were discussing the trip quite a bit, and I wasn't even sure if I would be included in those plans given that it sounded more like a guys weekend.  When everyone first started discussing the trip, Ranger Mike and I were barely even friends... my how things change.

Fast forward to January, and now Ranger Mike and Ziggy go together like peas and carrots..or something like that.  So of course in the weeks leading up to the Katahdin trip, Mike was egging me on encouraging me to sign up for the four day trip.  To be quite honest, I was a bit terrified.  The last time I had climbed Katahdin (ok the only time), it was an almost 10 mile trek ascending via Helon Taylor, crossing Knife's Edge, and descending via Saddle and Chimney Pond.  By the end of the day, I was barely hobbling along and sincerely humbled by the mountain.  I would be sore for most of the next week after the climb.

Now Mike was asking me to sign up for a trip that would span four days and include 26 miles of skiing, 6.6 miles of snowshoeing, and a 2.8 mile round trip trek up the mountain and back via the Dudley Trail carrying everything we needed in packs and/or pulling a sled.  I have honestly never been more intimidated and anxious about a trip in my life.  That anxiety came not only from wondering if I could make it through the trip, but also out of a fear of holding up the rest of the group.  It was a very fit group of guys with events like Extremus and Infinitus under their belts.  How was I to keep up?  Of course in the end Ranger Mike convinced me that I would be fine on this trip, that I could and would keep up with the group, and that I would be kicking myself with regrets if I did not go.  And in all cases, he was right.  It was an amazing adventure, and now that I have had a taste of the mountain in winter, I am hooked.  Here is a little bit of our first trip for those who have never been.  Maybe it will encourage you to overcome your fears and head out into the woods, too - and maybe we'll see each other on the trails!

Day 1 - Thursday, January 21

The day started with an early morning wake-up to meet Gunny at Baxter State Park Headquarters.  He was to follow us to Abol Bridge where we would be parking our vehicles during the trip.  In winter the park is accessible only via snowmobile (Tote Road only) or by skiing/snowshoeing in from Abol Bridge.  The road to the gate is not maintained in the winter, and only snowmobiles are allowed on that road.  Read that as Don't drive to the gate expecting to access the park or you will be fined!

This day would begin at Abol Bridge and end 13 miles away at Roaring Brook, taking us through the woods on the Abol Stream Trail and then traveling the Tote Road and Roaring Brook Road.  We had spots reserved in the bunkhouse at Roaring Brook once we got there, and I remember wondering who would be sharing the bunkhouse with us and hoping they would have a fire going when we got there.

Gunny would be making the trek on snowshoes, and Mike and I would be traveling with skis.  I think the last time I had been on skis was around age 12, but after a refresher that Monday night I was confident I could make the trip in just fine.  We each had packs with our gear, and Mike was towing a sled behind him as he skied.  I was surprised at how much easier travel was on skis.  I guess I just never had thought about it before, but as I let gravity carry me down every downhill we came to - it made me wonder why I had given it up so many years ago.

The only people we saw on our entire trip to Roaring Brook were Ranger Dave Loome and Ranger Greg Hamer as they passed us on snowmobiles.  It was a big change from my typical experiences in the park where you encounter people every few minutes unless you venture way into the back-country. The feeling of solitude was a welcome break from the busy work life I have in Massachusetts.  The trip to Roaring Brook took us at least 6 hours, but it passed by very quickly.  It's hard to maintain any sense of time when you are gliding down hills, breathing in the crisp winter air, and being blessed with a magnificent view of Katahdin. 

That sense of solitude ended when we arrived at the bunkhouse at Roaring Brook.  We had a bunk-mate who had decided to begin his trip at 2am from Abol Bridge.  Unfortunately, he didn't seem very adept at building a fire, and the temperature inside the bunkhouse was significantly colder than it was outside.  Mike quickly got to work building the fire while we unpacked and loaded up on calories - a 13 mile ski is a great excuse to gorge yourself on cookies, and I took full advantage of that!  That's actually how we spent much of the rest of the day with some cribbage games thrown in for good measure.

As we chatted with our bunk-mate, Isaac, we learned he was on a solo trip spanning several days.  He had never snowshoed hauling a sled, and so he had gotten a significantly earlier start than we had to allow himself ample time to reach Roaring Brook.  After several conversations about his planned trip, dreams of long distance hiking in Alaska, and sharing some dried squid from Marden's with Gunny (seriously... I can't make this stuff up) - Isaac spent most of his time reading or napping in his bunk.

We were scheduled to have two more bunk-mates for that evening, and they soon came rolling in (skiing in?) and entered the bunkhouse to warm up.  They were both Canadian, and their first language was very obviously French.  It was a language barrier that made conversation both challenging and humorous.  We were suspicious when one of the first questions they asked us was "Do you speak French?"....none of us did.  I wish I had because I'm sure there was some great color commentary when we broke out the cribbage board a short time later.

The Canadians - as they will be referred to because unfortunately none of us exchanged names - were in Baxter to do some ice climbing.  They chatted with Mike for a bit about the conditions they could expect when they reached Chimney Pond, and then they decided to hike the extra 3.3 miles up to the bunkhouse at Chimney Pond to take advantage of one more day of ice climbing.  From there on it was a quiet night interrupted only twice - once for Ranger Greg to stop in and humiliate me at cribbage...and then again when a mouse decided there must be something yummy in Gunny's ruck.


Day 2 - Friday, January 22nd
Our morning at Roaring Brook was pretty uneventful.  We had planned on getting an early start so that we might get ahead of Ranger Greg and help with shoveling off some bridges on the trail.  But - early wake-ups were never something I was very good at.  Greg rolled through about 20 minutes or more before we were ready to hit the trail.  We caught up with him at one of the bridges not long after we left Roaring Brook, though, and between Gunny and Mike - they made short work of the snow removal needed on the bridge.

From there, we snowshoed the rest of the way to Chimney stopping briefly at halfway viewpoint and crossing Basin Pond on our way.  The view from halfway viewpoint was Gunny's first close up view of the mountain in winter, and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning.  It didn't take us long to reach Chimney Pond from there, and we had the good fortune of being able to stay in the Ranger Camp with Ranger Greg.  We had been set to use the Crew Camp, but why heat more than one camp if you don't need to, right?

The camp had been unoccupied for a few days, so it was colder inside than it was outside...and this trip to Chimney Pond was considerably colder than our trip at Christmas.  Temperatures were in the teens while we were there and -3F on the morning we left.  Mike set to building a fire while we unpacked our bags and sorted through our gear.  Not long after, Ranger Rob Tice showed up - followed by Ranger Greg.  Similar to Mike, Rob is a Law Enforcement Ranger in the park and supervises staff and operations at Roaring Brook, Chimney Pond, and Russell Pond.  He was only stopping in to check the batteries at the Ranger camp, but stayed a little longer for lunch and to talk about skiing for a while.

Mike and Gunny got ambitious enough to want to try some ice climbing while there was still light out.  I decided to sit that one out, figuring I would get my fill of climbing the next day when we made our way to the summit.  I stayed behind for a few more games of cribbage with Greg - the well-respected "Cribbage Champion of Chimney Pond."  It turned out that was a wise decision since the snow conditions made for difficult travel for Mike and Gunny.  They returned a short time later and opted to fill the rest of their day with cribbage, as well.

Day 3 - Saturday, January 23rd
The day was finally here - Summit Day.... after conversations with Greg the night before, Mike and Gunny wanted to do a longer route for the day's climb.  The plan originally had been to ascend/descend via the Saddle Trail.  The new plan was to ascend via the Dudley Trail, cross Knife's Edge, and descend via the Saddle Trail.  That would end up making for a much longer day and include a challenging climb through the Chimney as we left Pamola Peak.  But the Canadians had done it near dark descending via Dudley Trail to break the trail out the night before.. so how hard could it be?

We set out around 8am to climb to Pamola Peak.  It was an icy climb, but with the right gear it didn't seem so bad - minus my crampons coming off a couple of times...guess it's time to buy my own gear, not use hand-me-downs.  Many times when I climb, my hip will bother me with the repetitive motion of climbing a trail like Chimney Pond trail, but on Dudley there was none of that.  It is my favorite trail I have climbed in my time in the park.  I had so much fun scrambling over the rocks and trying to figure out the easiest/safest way to climb some of them that the hike didn't really even feel like work.  I think that when your mind is challenged along with your body, you don't notice the physical strain as much.  It seemed like it took us no time to reach Pamola Peak, even though in all likelihood it took us a couple of hours.

I've climbed to Pamola Peak, done Knife's Edge, and stood on Baxter Peak.  There are still others I need to climb, but so far Pamola is my favorite.  The view from Pamola looking across Knife's Edge to Baxter is amazing.  If you've never been there, add this hike to your bucket list.  Looking at the mountain from this perspective in the summer is breathtaking.  Looking at the mountain from this perspective in winter is also intimidating.

We paused for a few pictures at the Pamola sign.  It was so covered in ice that you could barely tell there was a sign there.  As fortunate as we were to have a beautiful day to climb, it made me wonder what a severe weather day would be like on the mountain.  We began our descent down behind Pamola Peak for a safer trek into the Chimney.  While Mike is right at home ice climbing, down-climbing into the Chimney was not something Gunny and I were comfortable with.  As we stood in the Chimney looking up at the climb we would need to make to reach Knife's Edge and continue our trip - Gunny got very quiet, and I got very nervous.

We had rope with us, and we had mountaineering axes.  But we had no technical ice tools, and Mike was the only one with real experience in these climbing conditions.  In the end, facing the very real possibility of falling during our ascent, we all decided it was the better course of action to descend via the same trail we had climbed.  We made our way back to Pamola Peak and began our hike down the Dudley Trail.

For Gunny, I'm sure the hike down seemed much faster than the hike up.  For me - well I seemed to find every patch of snow that was unstable enough to drop me through the crust.  I came away from the mountain looking like I'd been kicked in the shins for an hour and feeling thankful no children were at Chimney Pond waiting to expand their vocabulary.  Both Mike and Gunny seemed to get a kick out of the color commentary, though, so I guess it wasn't a total waste.

When we reached the camp, we were all happy to have a seat and relax.  I got to baking, and soon we made a meal out of a pan of gingerbread - minus a couple of pieces for the Canadians on their way by the camp.  You should have seen their faces as they came off the ice to find a piece of gingerbread handed to them through the window...still warm from the oven.  We may not know their names, but I still think we gained a few friends.  We spent the rest of that night much like we had the night before - with good food, great conversation, and more than a couple games of cribbage.  I got a few wins in against Ranger Greg, but by the end of the night - he was still the reigning Cribbage Champion of Chimney Pond.

Day 4 - Sunday, January 24th
We woke up earlier than we needed to on Sunday.  I guess something in me was restless knowing that it was time to go home.  As Mike and I laid there watching the sunrise light up the mountain, I wondered if there would ever be a time that I tired of the sight.  I really don't think there will be.  We quickly packed our bags and fueled for the trip back to our vehicles....over 16 miles away.

All of the days leading up to this trip, this was the leg of our journey I was most intimidated by.  It wasn't the mountain, it was the long haul back out from Chimney Pond after 3 days of running my body ragged.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was more capable than I had thought.  The trip out was relatively uneventful.  We met several groups on their way to Roaring Brook, ran into Ranger Rob Tice once more, and just had fun enjoying the relatively warm winter day.  We had only left Chimney around 8am, but by 230pm - we were back at our vehicles.  Other than an insane craving for a burger and a beer, I really didn't feel that bad off.  So that's just what we did...stopped at The Sawmill for lunch before we said our good-byes and headed for home.

If you ever have the opportunity to visit Baxter State Park in the winter, I strongly encourage you to do so.  There is so much more to see than the Tote Road will show you.  But if you venture out on snowshoe or ski - be sure to educate yourself before your trip.  As beautiful as the wilderness can be in winter, it also offers a whole new set of obstacles that need to be considered for a safe and successful trip.

Gunny, Ranger Mike, and me

Mike on the ski in

View into the basin from the chimney.

Ranger Mike and me on Pamola Peak

Gunny on Pamola Peak

Ranger Mike testing out the conditions in the chimney.

Pamola Peak sign covered in ice.

Knife's Edge and Baxter Peak in the background.

Ranger Mike on the Dudley Trail.

View from the chimney.

Gunny and me on the Dudley Trail.

Christmas at Chimney Pond

There are many perks to being the fiance of a Baxter State Park Enforcement Ranger, and it turns out that this past Christmas holiday - one of them was taking a turn covering the Back-country Ranger position at Chimney Pond.  Mike had told me around Thanksgiving that it looked like he would be assigned to cover the time just before and just after the Christmas holiday, and with a 3.3 mile hike up and back - we figured why not just stay the extra day there over the holiday?

It was our first Christmas together, and it was almost like something out of a romance novel to be able to spend it in the middle of a 250,000 acre state park without another soul around for miles.  We arrived at Chimney Pond on December 22nd, and we would stay at the Ranger Station there through until December 27th.  There was far less snow on the trail than is typical for this time of year, and the trip up passed quickly.  This was a good thing given that we were planning on making another trip down the following day to pick up more supplies ("supplies" meaning "food" - we are both fat kids at heart).  We arrived at the Ranger Station a little later in the day and quickly set about the process of unpacking, getting a fire going in the wood stove, and just making ourselves at home.  It was a quiet night, of course, and that was exactly what we both needed.

Arriving at Chimney Pond

Chimney Pond and Mt Katahdin

 The following morning we got a bit of a late start to hike down to Roaring Brook and pick up the last of our supplies.  By the time we stopped to have lunch at Roaring Brook and hiked back up to Chimney Pond, it was approaching darkness.  It was worth it, though, to be able to have more than just backpacking food while we were there.

Christmas Eve started with a trip up to Pamola Caves.  Our original plan had been for Mike to teach me  bit about ice climbing while we were there, but the weather took a strange turn around Christmas this year.  We had temperatures in the mid-50s at Chimney Pond, and the breeze off the mountain actually felt warmer.  That's unheard of at that time of year!  By the time we would leave to go home, there wouldn't be much ice left that was good for climbing.  The trip to Pamola Caves was fun, though.  Mike gave me a few basic pointers when it came to being on the mountain in winter, and neither of us had ever been to Pamola Caves before.  Honestly, I just enjoyed being outside on the mountain with Mike.  It never seems to matter what exactly has gotten us out into the woods - just that we were there and there together.

Mike at Pamola Caves

View from the trail to Pamola Caves

Christmas Day was more of the same.  Waking up to a winter morning at Chimney Pond with no one else around - I cannot really explain what it is like to someone who has never been there.  Everything is quiet and peaceful.  The air is crisp and clean.  Maybe it's Chimney Pond, maybe it's Ranger Mike - but of all the Christmas holidays that I have spent with friends and family, none has felt more like home than this Christmas.

Celebrating Christmas

Collecting water for the Ranger camp.

Skies over Katahdin

 It was difficult to pack up when it was time to go home.  As much as a part of me was ready for the luxuries such as running water, a hot shower, and a glass of wine - part of me didn't want the holiday to end.  When you are at Chimney Pond, it's as if the rest of the world doesn't exist.  All of your troubles are so far away that it's easy to get lost in the contentment of a simple life.   But like all things, our time at Chimney had to come to an end.  We made the hike back down to Roaring Brook, and it was an odd feeling to get into the truck and drive somewhere rather than hike.  It wasn't long before we were back at the house in Millinocket, but I think a piece of my heart will forever be at Chimney Pond.

Ziggy - Chimney Pond Trail

Baxter State Park - Russell Pond

Life has gotten in the way these last few months, and I am ashamed to admit that although my tip to Russell Pond happened in late July - I am just getting to writing about it now.  It was an amazing experience that I will probably fail to do justice, but I have to try.  Just know that it is a place of timeless beauty that is worth the trek through the back country to get to.

Russell Pond

The hike to Russell Pond begins at Roaring Brook Campground and takes you roughly 8 miles into the back country.  I made the trip with my boyfriend, BSP Ranger Mike Winslow, and we ran into very few people on the trail - one group on their way out and two other rangers heading out after a building project at one of the lean-to camp-sites.  Other than those two encounters, we had the trail to ourselves.  It probably had something to do with the weather, though.  It was overcast, humid, and seemed to carry the threat of not only rain but possible thunder showers.  We had a window of opportunity to reach the Russell Pond Ranger Station, and we knew that if we kept pace - we would make it before the storms, though.

I have wanted to see Russell Pond for years.  I've always had a deep appreciation for the Maine woods.  The woods present no distractions and put you in a place where you need to look inward.  There are many things to see, many beautiful views to get lost in, but I find that they bring you back to yourself.  Getting lost in the deep woods helps you find yourself.  There is something about the idea of being in such a remote place that just calls to me.  It's like stepping back in time to an era where life was better because it was simpler.  Sure it was harsh with all of the challenges that being in remote areas present, but it was also uncluttered with all of the things that seem to get in the way in today's world.

Mike and I made short work of the hike in to Russell.  The only real stops along the way were at the lean-to to see the other rangers' handiwork and a brief pause to change out our shoes for a stream crossing.  Mike is one of those rangers that doesn't see his time in the park as just a job.  He has immense respect and love for the Maine woods, and as we hiked in to Russell Pond he shared stories of the history of the area with me.  Stories of logging camps in days gone by, the place that provided the inspiration that would give birth to Bambi, and even more recent stories of back country rangers and their eccentricities.  When you are in the middle of the woods, it's funny how what is right in front of you is all that matters.  Sitting here in a coffee shop in Tulsa, OK - I find the stark contrast interesting.

When we reached the Ranger station at Russell, I dropped my pack and walked down to the dock of the pond.  Looking out across it at the mountain with the mist and vivid green of the woods - it's a scene that will forever be with me.  It was so peaceful - no background noise of traffic or planes overhead.  We had 3 more days worth of that in front of us, and I cannot remember being happier or more at ease than I was in that moment.

The early part of that evening was spent cooking dinner while Mike checked campers in, fielded the many questions that come with being a Ranger, and handled any questions coming in on the radio.  It was a quiet night, and I remember thinking about how differently time passes when you are in the woods.  Everything is so much slower paced than in our usual day to day.  I often wish we could take a small slice of that home with us.

Our second day at Russell Pond continued in the same manner our first day had.  Mike started his day with the early morning ranger duties.  As he paddled across the pond to post the weather report, I sat at the table with a cup of coffee, writing in my journal and enjoying the view across the pond.  While we had a few tasks to complete in our time there, it was really on our own time.  I remember watching him out the front window of the camp - he paddled his canoe out across the pond and took a short break to fly-fish.

I'll admit that sitting here now, the memories of our time at Russell all blend together. There was time to do fun things like fish, but there were also days of paddling/hiking up to 10 miles to check back country campsites and outhouses.  We may have been working, but it didn't feel like it as we paddled across Wassataquoik Lake and watched a mama loon on her nest, took a side trip up to see Greene Falls, and chatted with the one hiker that we came across.

While the pace of life seemed to slow down, the days at Russell Pond were over much too fast.  The day we hiked out, it was for me to hop in my Jeep for a drive to Boston to catch a flight to Charlotte, NC.  Within one day I went from one of the most remote places in Maine to the middle of a busy North Carolina city.  But in my mind, I have gone back to Russell many times in the last few months.  I look forward to spending time there again soon, and I have these photos to get me through until then.

Flag at half mast to honor fallen marines even in the back country.

Greene Falls

Lookout over Wassataquoik Lake

Rafting the Penobscot with Three Rivers Whitewater Rafting

I'll start this out with saying - best day EVER! :)  I had done a whitewater rafting trip on the Penobscot with Three Rivers Whitewater Rafting a few years ago with some girls I work with.  Our guide, Josh, was great, and we had an amazing time.  Due to one of the girls in our raft not being able to swim very well, we didn't hit the rapids as hard or surf like the other rafts - no complaints to the guide, as he was just doing his job and doing it very well!  But I had always wondered what it would be like to get in a raft full of crazy people like me .... this weekend that's what I got!

I'm always trying to drag my friends along on these little adventures, so when I had a weekend open up to book a trip I called up Sarah and Rashell to see if they wanted to join.  I don't think they had to think too long on that one!  We packed up and headed for the Penobscot Outpost on Friday afternoon with plans to spend Saturday rafting and Sunday hiking.  The Penobscot Outpost is worth the trip all by itself.  Friday night was karaoke night, and between the guests, the staff, great food, and cold beer we had an awesome night.  Three Rivers has several options when it comes to accommodations, but being that we are all County girls - we obviously chose to rough it with a tent campsite. :)  The campsites are very reasonable at $10 per person per night, and with The Boatman's Bar & Grill on site - there were definitely some good times to be had.  I will also say that this is one of the cleanest camp sites that I have ever stayed at.  The staff at Three Rivers have high standards, and it was a pleasure camping there.  Should you ever visit them and not want to rough it in a tent over the weekend, they also have several other options available.

We started our Saturday off right with a buffet style breakfast before gearing up and running through a safety briefing.  Being that we had such a good time on the last trip, I had requested Josh as a guide on this trip, as well.  While they accommodate those requests whenever possible, it turned out that Josh was on an overnight rafting trip that weekend.  No worries, though, as we ended up in a raft with one of the owners, Tony, and I dare say there is no one that knows the river better.

Once everyone had their guide assignments, we loaded up onto the buses and headed for the starting point of our 13 mile rafting trip.  The water level wasn't quite as high on this trip as it had been a few years ago, but I think that was a good thing.  We were able to take the time to put the raft in and go through some of the basic commands Tony would be giving us during our trip.  The first time I had rafted the Penobscot, we did not have this luxury since the water was running at about 3,200 cfs rather than 2,600 cfs - which sucked us right into the first rapid rather quickly.  After going through "all ahead", "all back", "back left", "back right", etc. we started on our way down the river - with our first rapid being a Class V!

To sit here and give you an accurate description of how much fun this river was.... it can't be done.  It's one of those things you have to experience to understand.  All I can say is that they live up to "The Home of Serious Fun".  We had a raft full of crazy people like me that wanted to hit every rapid as hard as we could.  I've heard people say before "I went rafting, but I wish I had been in the fun raft."  Well we were that raft!  We took one hit so hard it broke the zipper on our raft!  Don't worry, we were fine - it didn't affect the raft's ability to hold air, only it's ability to hold it's shape.  It was loud, but we were almost to our first stop on the trip so we just picked up another raft there.  Plus we got the bragging rights that we were so awesome the raft couldn't handle us ;)

Lunch is included as part of the rafting trip, and I remember sitting there at the picnic table just being in awe of Maine.  Which, if you have read other posts on my blog, happens quite often and with good reason.  Here's just a sneak peek of why I say that now:

Photo by Three Rivers Whitewater Rafting.

Here we were, all 100+ of us, sitting around picnic tables having a hot lunch that the guides prepped for us over a fire next to the river.  People from all over were connecting, enjoying the great outdoors, and it's just always a good feeling to witness that.

Directly after lunch, we were set to hit Nesowdnehunk Falls.  I have always thought this was funny.  Let's feed you and send you on the equivalent of a rollercoaster ride.  My last experience with the falls was in 2011, and it was memorable enough that Josh remembered me even though it had been two years since I had seen him.  As I said before, we had a raft of 6 women (most of whom I worked with).  One of the women is deaf, so it made it a little more challenging for her since she could not hear Josh's instructions from the back of the raft.  She could only watch me and do what I did, as I was sitting in the front of the raft.  Before hitting the falls, Josh gives us the "game plan" - how are we going to approach this section of the river.  He told us that he needed us to paddle all ahead as hard as we could right up until he told us to hold on.  If we didn't give him all we had right up til that moment, we weren't going to hit the rapid how he wanted to.

The river bends left just before the falls, and you can't see the falls until you're about to head into it.  It's not really that rough before the falls, so you can actually hear the roaring of the water well before you get there.  The anxious feeling of not being able to see what's going on around the corner is crazy!  And it's heightened when you see a raft go around the bend and all you can hear is people screaming like they would on a rollercoaster.  When it's our turn, Josh gives us our instructions and we start paddling with all we have.  Till we hear "Oh sh**! Hold on!"  As one we immediately stop paddling and grab onto whatever we can near us.....and realize it was not Josh that yelled.  Being deaf, one of the women hadn't gotten Josh's instructions.  If someone could have gotten a picture of his face in that moment, it would have been priceless.  There was no time for us to grab our paddles and recover, it was all on Josh at that point.  When we went over the falls, the left side of the raft took a hard hit - which is where I was.  I got thrown across the raft and remember thinking along the way "Oh well!  It will be a good story!"  While I didn't end up going out of the raft, I did end up caught half in/half out of the raft and took quite a pummeling from the river.  But nothing I couldn't handle!  Thanks to Josh we came out of it without flipping our raft and a story that both us and the guide would remember.

Because of the last time going over the falls, I was a little anxious already.  Then I heard the falls.  Then I heard the screaming as the first raft went around the bend.  At this point I was pretty confident in the group I was rafting with NOT to stop paddling, but still my stomach was all butterflies.  We came around the bend following Tony's instructions and I remember that moment as the raft was starting to go over the falls.  Picture it - there you are in a raft at the edge of a 13ft waterfall looking down over the falls.  It's one of those moments where you get a huge adrenaline rush and time slows down... until we actually went over it.  On the first run of the falls (yes that's right we did it more than once!) we took the biggest hit.  The raft tipped up on it's left side.  I had a hold on the rope and leaned way back trying to transfer my weight as far that way as I could to keep the raft from flipping.  I joked later that it felt like riding one of those mechanical bulls.  We came out the other side with the raft upright but we were missing several passengers - including our guide!  There is a pool after the waterfall, though, so getting everyone back into the raft really was no problem at all.  With everyone loaded up, Tony asks us "Are you ready to do that again?"  That's right - we did the falls not once, but three times!

This view of the falls is from the opposite side of what we run.  It's more impressive from the other side of the river, but here you can see the exposed rocks in the middle of the river.  That's where we carried the raft upriver to run the falls again.... and again!  We also got the chance to do some surfing at the falls - which was a lot of work but so much worth the effort!

 The raft in the above photo is actually facing upriver.  Tony referred to the falls as "recess" because after lunch we stopped there to play for at least an hour.  Eventually we had to head back downriver, though, even though I honestly could have spent an entire day at the falls.

There are many rafting companies here in Maine, but I was impressed by everything about Three Rivers.  We learned a lot about the area we were rafting through, heard some great travel stories (I swear my bucket list doubled in size), and anyone that can put up with all those bad attempts at British accents and over abundance of sarcasm in our raft deserves kudos.  We had so much fun that we decided to stay another night and leave on Sunday rather than head north Saturday night.  With nightly bonfires, a band on Saturday night, and great people - how can you turn that down?! :)

Three Rivers Whitewater Rafting also has trips on the Kennebec River and the Dead River that run out of The Forks.  I have not had the opportunity to do either of these trips yet, but I plan on being there for Last Blast on the Kennebec in October.  Next year maybe I'll get up the nerve to do a Jump & Raft package with them (which includes rafting and skydiving).  For now, though, find Three Rivers Whitewater Rafting on Facebook and check out their website for more information on the trips they offer.

Greater Bangor Area Businesses

Recently I decided to make this blog not only about hiking and outdoor adventure in Maine, but also to throw a bit in here about local businesses that really are worth the trip to check them out.  I'll start a post for each area I visit that details all of the places I feel that anyone coming to the area needs to check out.  We'll start with the Greater Bangor Area.  This blog will be updated as I visit more post-worthy places.

Nocturnem Draft Haus
First on the list is Nocturnem Draft Haus. This local bar and beer garden is really a gem, as they offer a great selection of craft beers on tap as well as an extensive bottled selection.  They carry 14 different beers on tap at any given time, and they rotate them frequently so there is always something new to offer.  Their website is updated frequently and always carries a Current Draft List for those that would like to check ahead of time.  Nocturnem also offers a simple menu of sandwiches, wraps, and burgers that is locally sourced if available.

Most people in this area would think a bar like this is for "beer snobs" but that is not the case.  The staff at Nocturnem are all very friendly and seem to truly love what they do.  If you're unsure what to order, any one of the bar tenders can give you a suggestion based on what types of beers you have already tried and liked.  I can honestly say that I have never asked for a beer recommendation and been given one that I didn't like.

The bar is also known for having many events going on showcasing local bands, housing promo nights regularly, and also having a Monday Night Flite Night where you can purchase a sampler flite of beer if you're feeling adventurous and want to try more than one of the drafts offered.  Their website offers a current calendar of events and other happenings at the bar.

4 Points BBQ and Blues House
This place has got to be the best place to go on a sunny day (or any other day for that matter!).  Located in Winterport, ME, this place is a little bit out of the way if you are visiting Bangor, but their authentic BBQ and great atmosphere are well worth the drive.  The restaurant itself has limited seating with only 4-5 picnic tables, but this year they have built an outdoor seating area with a stage to offer more seating and showcase Blues bands throughout the summer.  See their website for a calendar of events that are scheduled most weekends through to the end of September.

4 Points has their own set of BBQ sauces and sells bottles of them right there at the restaurant for you to take home.  I recommend a mixture of Memphis and Maine XXX for a spicy/sweet sauce.  When ordering your sides, be sure to try their BBQ Baked Beans, as well.  And as if great BBQ wasn't enough - they also feature some locally brewed beers from Penobscot Bay Brewery (located in Winterport, ME).

Grand Lake Matagamon

  This past weekend my father and I took the snowmobile and headed in to camp to just spend the day.  The camp is at Haybrook Meadow just north east of Grand Lake Matagamon.  As we were sledding across the frozen lake, I got to thinking about how there are so many people that will never have the experiences that I have been fortunate to have growing up in Maine.  I take those for granted at times, as much as I hate to admit it, and it's moments like that - speeding across the ice and looking over at the rock face of Horse Mountain - that it really hits me how lucky I have been.  Here is a bit about our camp from what I remember of stories from family.

Our hunting camp has been in the family since only 1983 (according to my grandfather that's the year he built the camp), but that area is rich with family history going back to at least the 1920's.  My great grandfather, Herschel A. Steen, used to trap up in that area.  He was a registered Maine Guide, and I've heard many stories about him guiding hunting trips for people from all over New England.  Ironically enough, he had a brother, Amos, that was a game warden in the same area.  I'm not sure if that helped or hurt his business, though. :) 

My great grandfather (Pappy as I called him) used to take his canoe all by himself across Grand Lake Matagamon to where he had his original camp at Hay Brook Logan.  This is probably well over 7 miles to paddle a gear laden canoe all by yourself.  My great grandfather was definitely much more hardy than I am!  He used to travel to camp in this fashion right up until the day he took my great-grandmother in to camp with him....after which she bought him a motor for his canoe insisting that it was too far for him to be paddling a canoe in there.  This is a photo of them at the original camp:

My great grandfather had this camp right up until some time in the 60s/70s (I am unsure of the year) when Baxter State Park officials decided that they did not want a hunting camp on park lands - and then burned it to the ground.  I have not been up to the old camp site at Hay Brook Logan, but my father says that the old wood stove is still there today just sitting in the woods.  That's all that is left of the camp that Pappy, Grampa, and Uncle Bob spent so much time at.

A funny side note to this story - without a camp to stay in, Pappy had to improvise when hunting/trapping in the area.  So he built a make-shift shelter out of plastic wrap and tar paper.  Grampa says that they just wrapped this around some trees, fashioned a roof, and stayed in there when they were in the woods.  Complete with a wood stove, shelves for food stores, and everything:

Plastic shack

Uncle Bob in front of Pappy's shack.

Around about 1983, my grandfather acquired a lease from the logging companies to build a camp further up Hay Brook at Hay Brook Meadow.  This camp is only maybe 30 feet from the park line, but since it is on the logging company's land - it has not suffered the same fate that Pappy's camp did.  Grampa built the camp with some family and friends over the course of several weekends.  It is just as rustic of a camp as the first one.

Grampa's camp.

This is what the camp looked like shortly after it was built.  It is on leased land, and from the looks of it Grampa used the logs from the trees he cleared to put the camp here to actually build the camp.  Even though it is in a different location than the camp that Pappy originally had, it is still located in the area that Pappy and his brothers would hunt and trap.  Proof of this can be seen in a birch tree on the trail to camp:

MBS are the initials in this tree - Maurice B Steen - with the year beneath them - 1931.  This tree has been there for 82 years, and you can still clearly read the carving Pappy's brother left there. Talk about a living piece of family history!

Our camp is about as rustic and off the grid as it gets, and over the years it has gotten a lot of use.  My parents used to go in there with my grandfather when I was very young - which ended at least one time with me getting carried out in a pack basket (apparently I was too tired to walk back out).  Uncle Bob (my grandfather's brother) used to take us in there as kids for a few days over Thanksgiving break while he was hunting.  We would play in the woods, feed corn bread to the Canadian Jays, and play cribbage til late into the evening.  They are memories that I thought as a child, everyone had the opportunity to make.  Now that I'm older, I appreciate them so much more because I realize that not everyone has that or will have that.

The years have gone by, and camp gets less use now than it used to.  As a result, there was a lot of work that needed to be done to bring it back to being livable for more than just an afternoon.  The mice had torn the mattresses apart and built their nests everywhere they could.  Several winters of heavy snow had taken it's toll on the structure of camp.  The stove pipe needed replacing.  Even the outhouse wasn't safe - an animal had torn right through the side of it!  It was time, we all decided, for someone to do a little maintenance to camp, and so my dad waited for the winter when he could take materials across on his sled and then set to work.  My father can be likened to Tim the Tool-man Taylor if Tim had actually known what he was doing.  He never does anything half-way and is a perfectionist in every sense of the word (which is why he is so good at what he does).  I remember thinking "I hope he leaves camp like a camp" - rather than completely re-doing the structure and turning it into the Taj-mahal of hunting camps.

Kudos to my dad - he brought camp back to it's former "glory" without stripping everything that made it camp:

Dad in front of an updated camp

Updated camp from the side

 Camp has stayed the camp that we all have fond memories of, but it is now updated with new mouse-proof cabinets, propane piping for the cook stove and lights, new stove pipe, and bed boxes that keep the mice from tearing the mattresses apart for their nests.  He's also fixed some structural issues and has plans to add a metal roof so that there are no worries about snow building up and causing the roof to collapse.

We spent that day at camp taking pictures of everything that was done so that family members could see the changes that were made.  It's the fist time in a long time that I've had a chance to be at camp, start a wood fire, spend the day... I don't think I realized how much I'd missed it til just then.  I came back with photos to send to the family, and honestly I even felt a little lighter - spending time in the woods can really have a healing effect on a person, I think.  Uncle Bob lives in Florida now, but he asks about the camp every time we talk.  Aunt Heather lives in VT, and she's often said "If you can't find me, that's where I'll be - in the woods at camp a few hundred miles from everything."  Now I guess she really could do that if she wanted to.

To many people camp means a place they go to go boating and throw parties and have bonfires, but I don't think many people know what it is to have a camp that is off the grid like this one.  A place that feels almost untouched by time and so saturated with memories that whether you've been there once or a hundred times, whether you were there 20 years ago or just last week, it feels like home.

Here are some photos Grampa shared with me from trips to camp back years ago:

Great-Gram Steen on the boat ride to camp.

Some hunters that Pappy was acting as guide for.

View of Pappy's camp from the water.

Pappy (standing) and Grampa (right) at Pappy's camp.

Uncle Bob posing with his deer.

Pappy fishing at Matagamon.

Grampa feeding the Canadian Jays.

Grampa said he was told "Do the dishes or else!" haha

Grampa snow-shoeing with his pack basket.

Original view of interior of camp.

Interior of camp today

Photo with bed box open.

Grampa on the front porch at camp.

Pappy on the boat ride in.

Grampa at camp.

Canadian Jays - yes they are that brave to come right inside the camp.